Michelle Douglas - First Comes Baby...

Praise for Michelle Douglas

“Douglas’ story is romantic,

humorous and paced just right.”

—RT Book Reviews on Bella’s Impossible Boss

“Laughter, holiday charm and characters with depth

make this an exceptional story.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Nanny Who Saved Christmas

“Moving, heartwarming and absolutely impossible

to put down, The Man Who Saw Her Beauty is another stunning Michelle Douglas romance that’s going straight onto my keeper shelf!” —CataRomance on The Man Who Saw Her Beauty

He shook his head, his mouth a determined line. “This is one of the things you can’t boss me about. I’m not giving way. I’m the father of the baby you’re carrying. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

Just for a moment wild hope lifted through her. Maybe they could make this work. In the next moment she shook it off. She’d thought that exact same thing once before—ten years ago, when they’d kissed. Maybe they could make this work . Maybe she’d be the girl who’d make him stay. Maybe she’d be the girl to defeat his restlessness . All silly schoolgirl nonsense, of course.

And so was this.

At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLASwas asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun . She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Master’s programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings.

Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com

Michelle Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my editor, Sally Williamson,

for her keen editorial eye and all her support.

Many, many thanks.

‘BEN, WOULD YOU consider being my sperm donor?’

Ben Sullivan’s head rocked back at his best friend’s question He thrust his glass of wine to the coffee table before he spilled its contents all over the floor, and spun to face her. Meg held up her hand as if she expected him to interrupt her.

Interrupt her?

He coughed. Choked. He couldn’t breathe, let alone interupt her! When he’d demanded to know what was on her mind this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Not by a long shot. He’d thought it would be something to do Elsie or her father, but…

He collapsed onto the sofa and wedged himself in tight against the arm. Briefly, cravenly, he wished himself back in Mexico instead of here in Fingal Bay.

A sperm donor? Him?

A giant hand reached out to seize him around the chest, squeezing every last atom of air out of his lungs. A loud buzzing roared in his ears.

‘Let me tell you first why I’d like you as my donor, and then what I see as your role in the baby’s life.’

Her no-nonsense tone helped alleviate the pressure in his chest. The buzzing started to recede. He shot forward and stabbed a finger at her. ‘Why in God’s name do you need a sperm donor? Why are you pursuing IVF at all? You’re not even thirty!’ She was twenty-eight, like him. ‘There’s loads of time.’

‘No, there’s not.’

Everything inside him stilled.

She took a seat at the other end of the sofa and swallowed. He watched the bob of her throat and his hands clenched. She tried to smile but the effort it cost her hurt him.

‘My doctor has told me I’m in danger of becoming infertile.’

Bile burned his throat. Meg had always wanted kids. She owned a childcare centre, for heaven’s sake. She’d be a great mum. It took an enormous force of will to bite back the angry torrent that burned his throat. Railing at fate wouldn’t help her.

‘I’m booking in to have IVF so I can fall pregnant asap.’

Hence the reason she was asking him if he’d be her sperm donor. Him? He still couldn’t get his head around it. But…’ You’ll make a brilliant mum, Meg.’

‘Thank you.’ Her smile was a touch shy. It was the kind of smile that could turn the screws on a guy. ‘Not everyone will be as understanding, I fear, but…’ She leaned towards him, her blonde hair brushing her shoulders. ‘I’m not scared of being a single mum, and financially I’m doing very well. I have no doubt of my ability to look after not only myself but whoever else should come along.’

Neither did he. He’d meant it when he’d said she’d be a great mother. She wouldn’t be cold and aloof. She’d love her child. She’d fill his or her days with love and laughter, and it would never have a moment’s doubt about how much it was cherished.

His chest burned. An ache started up behind his eyes. She’d give her child the kind of childhood they had both craved.

Meg straightened. ‘Now, listen. For the record, if you hate the idea, if it makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, then we just drop the subject, okay?’

His heart started to thud.

‘Ben?’

She had her bossy-boots voice on and it almost made him smile. He gave a hard nod. ‘Right.’

‘Right.’ Her hands twisted together and she dragged in a deep breath. Her knuckles turned white. Ben’s heart thumped harder.

‘Ben, you’re my dearest friend. I trust you with my life. So it somehow only seems right to trust you with another life—a life that will be so important to me.’

He closed his eyes and hauled in more air.

‘You’re healthy, fit and intelligent—everything I want for my child.’

He opened his eyes again.

She grinned. ‘And, while you will never, ever get me to admit this in front of another living soul, there isn’t another man whose genes I admire more.’

Behind the grin he sensed her sincerity. And, just like every other time he visited, Meg managed to melt the hardness that had grown in him while he’d been away jetting around the world.

‘I want a baby so badly I ache with it.’ Her smile faded. ‘But having a baby like this—through IVF—there really isn’t anyone else to share the journey with me. And an anonymous donor…’ She glanced down at her hands. ‘I don’t know—it just seems a bit cold-blooded, that’s all. But if that donor were you, knowing you were a part of it…’

She met his gaze. He read in her face how much this meant to her.

‘Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, you know? I mean, when my child eventually asks about its father I’ll at least be able to answer his or her questions.’